New Beginnings
by CADay
Summary: Before there was Taylor and Ari, there was Taylor and Raven. Prequel to Never a Dull Day'. Can be read without each other. Rated T for language and suicide.
1. Chapter 1

There was pain.

Taylor opened her eyes, and the first thing there was was pain. It was always pain, and it was always for Raven. Raven was the first thing on her mind when she awoke, and she was the last thing Taylor thought of before she fell asleep. She was in the girl's daydreams and her nightmares; she followed her everywhere. And it was killing Taylor.

It was a struggle to get out of her every morning. To get up, get dressed, and leave the Tower. To greet her fellow Ravenclaws as she made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast. It took all of her willpower to eat the little bit that she did and retain the image of normality by reading the Daily Prophet and smiling. She forced herself to go to classes, but more often than not, she couldn't make it to dinner because she would collapse in her bed exhausted from trying. She would be well asleep by 19.30, and she would suffer soundly through her nightmares the entire night. It had been that way since Easter last year.

The summer holidays were worse though. The constant insults and assaults back home left her completely alienated, and the town was so empty without Raven that she couldn't stand the sight of it. Sleeping pills, large quantities of them, held her together throughout those months. She left her bed long enough to relieve herself, bathe, and occasionally eat. She did just enough to keep herself alive while she felt herself slowly dying.

It was different now though. She was back at Hogwarts; she wasn't able to hide away all day. It was nearly October, and she still hadn't adjusted to being back. Of course, she was still able to pretend that she was alive, but emotionally, she was dead. It was too hard. She couldn't take it any longer. She wouldn't take it any longer.


	2. Chapter 2

It's a late September night, dark and filled with that early autumn chill. Taylor is sick of life, sick of having to pretend she's all right when all she wants to do is die. It's time for this pain to be over. She slips out of bed and gets dressed, three years in the dormitory leaving her familiar with the room even in the pitch black darkness. With her trusty wand in her pocket, she sets off down the stairs. There is only one place for her right now.

The air is much cooler in the Dungeons. But it is also much more oppressive. The lake overhead leaves the air dank, and the grey stone casts an air of hopelessness on any unlucky traveler. Taylor isn't surprised that the Slytherins are always unhappy; they have to live in this place. She will too for a while, most likely. The corridors were a sprawling labyrinth with many unused rooms branching from them; she could pick almost any classroom with the guarantee that she wouldn't be found for several days.

That being said, she makes several random turns, losing herself in the grey stone, and picks a door. It is locked, but a simple flick of her wand unlocks it. Another flick lights the torches around the room. This is it. This room with its spiderwebs and dusty desks, with its rusty cauldrons and dirty floor, is where she shall erase her pain.

She wipes down a desk in the center of the room and sits in the flickering torchlight. With an air of finality, she rolls the right sleeve of her robe up well past her elbow. There are no doubts in her mind. All Taylor must do is focus on the task at hand and receive her freedom. Perhaps she'll even see Raven again. There will be no more taunts, no more shouts, no more punches, kicks, shoves.

A heavy sigh escapes her lips as she lays her arm against the cool wood of the desk. Her wand is raised and positioned over her right arm. There are still no doubts that she is doing the right thing, and she is frightfully calm. In one fluid motion, she slashes her wand down her arm, parallel to her vein.

_"Diffindo!"_

A strangled cry rips from her throat as her wand falls to the ground. Her skin slides apart, and the blood spills quickly. It washes across her arm and over the desk, staining the wood crimson. It hurts and burns, but it feels so cold. Taylor feels herself getting a bit lightheaded as her mind wanders.

Is this how Raven felt when she held herself under the black waters of that pond in Tennessee? Did she think she too would be left unfound for an extended period of time? It took days for anyone to notice and care that she was gone. Will it be the same for Taylor? If no one finds her, the rats be drawn by the blood and pick her bones clean over time. Then that's all that will be found. Or she won't be found at all and she'll spend eternity in this place. That thought scares her more than the numbness stealing through her body.

Suddenly she cries out. She does not want to die anymore. Not here. She doesn't want to be stuck in this room, with its faintly chemical smells. She doesn't want rats gnawing away at her bones for years to come. She needs to live!

Taylor stumbles to her feet and crashes into several desks as she heads for the door. There has to be someone down here who can save her. She leans against the wall as she forces herself down the stone corridor. Her right arm hangs uselessly to her side, and her wand is long forgotten in the classroom. She can tell she doesn't have long. Her vision is getting dark around the edges, and her head feels so light. All she wants to do is close her green eyes and sleep. But she knows she can't. She forces herself to keep going, but she must find someone soon.

It is around the next corner that her pleas are answered. There is light flooding from below a door up ahead. With her last ounce of strength, she pushes her weakening body to the door, landing solidly against it. She hears hurried footsteps on the other side as her world goes black.


	3. Chapter 3

Taylor Petterson is swimming. Swimming in the dark waters at the outskirts of her small town. It's a small pond, but once she's out in the middle, the swampy land that is the bank seems so far away. She tries to paddle back, but her arms and legs feel like they weigh a ton each. She starts to sink. As she goes under, she catches sight of a familiar face. Only this version is a ghastly parody of the girl she once loved. She has pale skin, blue lips, and has gaping holes where her dark eyes used to be. RAVEN! Taylor tries to yell but receives a mouthful of water. She can't spit it out because every time she opens her mouth, the black, sludge-like water forces its way down her throat.

She wakes in a panic. Her hand flies to her throat, but it is only air going in and out in short gasps. Where is she? The room is completely unfamiliar. A sharp pain in her right arm brings the previous night back to mind. She has to still be somewhere in the Dungeons. Why hadn't she died? Who saved her?

The room is definitely made of the same grey stone that the rest of the Dungeons are made of, and there are no windows. She is definitely still in the Dungeons, but where? The air lacks the oppressive dankness that is key down there; it feels warm and homey. It smells like tea and flowers and what reminds Taylor of the Potions supply cabinet. There is silver and green everywhere. In her mind there's only one place she could be: the Potion Master's office.

The Potion's Master is also the Head of Slytherin House and the only professor with a classroom in the Dungeons. His name is Professor Jones. Taylor has had his classes every year since her first year here at Hogwarts. This year makes her fourth having him as her Potions instructor. She thinks he seems like a good man.

As if able to hear her thoughts, Professor Jones saunters into her line of sight. She tries to sit up on the leather couch she's been laying on, but he waves her back down.

"Don't get up. You've lost too much blood."

No accusations. No demands. No questions. Just a simple matter-of-fact tone. Taylor appreciates it immensely, even if she knows it can't last.

She glances down at her arm, half expecting stitches like the good little Muggleborn she is. Instead there is an angry, puckered scar ripping down her forearm. She lifts it and pulls in a jagged breath. It still hurts, but that doesn't worry her.

"Pain means you're alive," the professor says with his back to her. He turns and hands her a glass of tea. "Have you heard people say you haven't lived until you've almost die? Personally, I don't believe that, but maybe almost dying puts things into perspective." He takes a sip of his tea and studies Taylor curiously.

Taylor lowers her eyes away from his grey ones. They almost match the stone surrounding them, but they seem much warmer. They also convey an intensity that leaves her breathless. 'He knows.' It must have been obvious that she attempted to end her own life. She takes a deep draught from her tea, her throat suddenly very dry.

"However," he adds almost haltingly, "it could just be human instinct to want to live. Otherwise we would have died out a long time ago."

The Ravenclaw is content to let him speak. What do you even say to someone who knows you tried to kill yourself? Especially someone that you don't really know? Nothing, is what Taylor finds to say. She simply takes another drink of tea and gives a small nod.

Professor Jones snorts softly. "You can speak, you know. You didn't slash your vocal chords too."

Insensitivity? To cajole her into speaking? Possibly. Or possibly he was just that brusque. Taylor hasn't really spoken to him outside of class before. But it serves its purpose.  
>_<p>

**AN: As always, reviews make my day brighter and the world revolve smoother. :) Don't be afraid to leave one, even if it is to hate.**


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